


Operation Cookie

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-11-18
Updated: 2000-11-18
Packaged: 2019-05-15 19:59:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14796983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: Josh helps Donna bake cookies.





	Operation Cookie

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

Title: Operation Cookie  
Author: Gabrielle Aurelius  
Feedback: yes, please, I pathetically live for feedback :P  
Disclaimer: yadda yadda, you know the routine

  
"Josh," Donna said, sticking her head into Josh's office.  
"What?" Josh answered without looking up.  
"I want you to do something for me."  
"Yeah, like what?" Josh asked, still concentrating on reading the file  
before him.  
"Come over tonight and help me bake cookies."  
Josh nodded distractedly.  "Uh huh."  
"You're not listening to me," Donna said dryly.  
"Yeah, Donna, I'm gonna have to agree with you there."  Josh flipped a  
sheet over and continued reading.  
"Josh."  Donna went behind Josh's chair and placed herself directly above  
him.  
"Donna," Josh grumbled, moving his head back and forth.  "You're blocking  
my light."  
Donna stifled a giggle.  "You look like a chicken."  
"Thank you, Donna, my confidence is now soaring."  
"Help me make cookies tonight!" Donna demanded again, putting her hands  
over the file Josh was valiantly attempting to read.  "Please?"  
Josh sighed.  "What for?"  
Donna swiveled Josh's chair so that he now faced her.  "My parents are  
coming over for Christmas to visit and I have nothing to give them.  They  
didn't tell me they were coming until today!  They arrive tomorrow at six  
thirty.  Puh-leeeease, Josh?  I can't do it by myself!  It's already eleven  
o'clock at night!"  
Josh sighed and rubbed at his eyes.  "Donna, you realize I have more  
important things to do- like, say, run the country?  I don't have time to  
play Martha Stewart."  
Donna fixed him with a glare.  "It's Friday, Joshua.  As the nation is not  
currently involved in a war or international crisis, I think you have time."  
"I don't bake!!!" Josh shouted, exasperated.  "Why don't you just get your  
parents something from a store, like any other normal daughter would?  I  
don't know- buy them White House t-shirts.  Here-" he grabbed something from  
under the folder on his desk, "give them my pen.  You can say it was used by  
the Deputy Chief of Staff.  It even says 'The White House' on it."  
"Josh!" Donna argued.  "My parents might appreciate my cookies; and what  
makes you think they'd want your pen?  You're hardly the President, you  
know."  
"Then I'll steal a pen off his desk, okay?"  
"Josh!"  
"Oh, c'mon, go ask Ginger, or Margaret, or anyone who isn't me, okay?"  
After a long silence in which Donna seemed to be weighing a matter of  
critical import, she finally spoke.  "I'll bring you coffee."  
Josh looked up at her in surprise.  A grin slowly spread across his face.  
"In that case..."  
"Only once, though, Josh.  I don't want to spoil you."  
He paused and his shrewd politician face appeared.  "Every morning, with as  
many refills as I like, for ONE WEEK."  
Donna's eyes shot open.  "What?!"  
"It's either that, or you can start figuring out how to gift wrap a pen,"  
Josh said, waving the 'present' in front of her face.  
She sighed.  "Oh, all right.  You win, Josh.  It's a deal.  You help me  
bake tonight, and I'll bring you coffee."  
"Coffee for an *entire* week, with limitless refills," Josh verified,  
grinning like a Cheshire cat.  
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Donna mumbled, rolling her eyes.  "I am so not looking  
forward to next week.  You're going to be a hyper wreck from drinking  
coffee- I know you'll keep drinking it just to spite me, so I'll have to  
keep bringing you refills."  
"Well, I might as well enjoy it, don't you think?" Josh smiled.  
"You are entirely too pleased with yourself," Donna sighed.  
"Yup."  
"Oh, go get your coat," she said, heading for the door.  "I'll meet you at  
the car."  
Donna left the small office to the sound of Josh's quiet chuckling.

*****************

Josh stalked around the kitchen feeling useless.  He'd gathered everything  
Donna had said- eggs, flour, the plastic container with the word 'sugar'  
scrawled across it, chocolate chips, measuring cups, and walnuts- and  
carefully lined them up on her counter.  The Deputy Chief of Staff stood  
amongst the ingredients looking pitifully lost.  He wore one of Donna's old  
shirts and had on a pair of boxers, rescued from the trunk of his car; his  
white socks were rolled up to mid-calf.  
Josh wandered out of the kitchen to look for Donna.  
He passed by the bathroom, stopped, and backtracked.  He examined his  
reflection from the doorway.  "Donna, I look really stupid."  
Donna came bustling out of her bedroom wearing a long-sleeved shirt and a  
pair of khaki Gavardine pants.  Her hair was tied back in a loose ponytail.  
"For once, Josh, I agree with you."  
Josh turned to look at her as she drifted by.  He gasped, theatrically, and  
put his hand over his heart.  "Oh my god, look everyone, it's Martha  
Stewart!!!"  
"Shut up," Donna huffed.  She grabbed him by the sleeve and pulled him  
along.  "We have to start baking.  It's already midnight!"  
Josh followed behind her.  "So, Martha, how are we going to do this?"  
"You're going to chop one and a half cans of nuts," Donna ordered, "then  
you're going to butter the pans so that the cookies won't stick to them,  
then-"  
"Whoa, whoa- slow down there, Donna.  Now, about the nuts..." Josh  
frowned.  
"What about the nuts?"  
"Um, you want them in- uh- small pieces or big pieces, or medium pieces,  
or... Actually, how about this:  you chop a walnut for me and show me how  
small you want it."  
Donna gave him a queer look.  "Why?"  
"So I can have a gauge for how small to make them."  
"This is hardly rocket science, Josh.  Just cut the walnuts into pieces,  
okay?"  
Josh shook his head stubbornly.  "No, you're really going to have to show  
me.  Or I won't cut them."  
"Fine, fine," Donna sighed, grabbing a can of nuts.  She peeled open the  
cover, picked one out, positioned it on the cutting board, whipped a long  
knife out of the holder, and brought it down hard.  The nut fell into two  
perfect pieces on the board.  "There, happy?"  
Josh looked at the knife nervously.  "You seem to be good at the chopping  
there, Donna.  What about you chop the nuts and I supervise?"  
"We are working towards a deadline, Josh.  I don't have time for you to  
play boss.  It may work at the White House, but it isn't going to work here.  
  A woman's kitchen is her...her... domain," Donna said, fishing for a word.  
  She waved the knife around to make her point.  
"Alright, Martha.  Whatever you say.  How about you give me that knife?"  
Josh smiled at her nervously.  
She handed the culinary weapon to him and flitted to the other side of the  
kitchen.  
Josh turned back to the cutting board, the knife held awkwardly in one  
hand.  "Okay," he said to himself.  "I can do this."  He picked a walnut out  
of the can and placed it next to Donna's.  Carefully, he sliced through it.  
After a few seconds of laborious work, Josh had five halved walnuts lined up  
next to Donna's.  
Donna peered over his shoulder.  "Josh," she said in her best 'I knew you  
were stupid, but I never knew you were quite this stupid' tone of voice.  
"Yes?" he asked in deep concentration.  He sliced through another walnut.  
"You do realize that it will be five o'clock in the morning by the time you  
finish chopping this can of walnuts, right?"  
"What?" he looked at her like she'd grown another head.  
"Here," she sighed, taking the knife from her boss.  She grabbed a can of  
walnuts and spread its contents out onto the board.  With mechanical  
precision, she began chopping the walnuts.  
"Donna!" Josh screeched.  "How am I supposed to find the ones I already  
chopped in that mess?!"  
"Josh, you know, for a Harvard graduate, you can be rather idiotic," she  
said.  "Look.  This is how you chop nuts, okay?"  She demonstrated it again.  
"Ohhh, right," Josh said in his best 'I am not embarrassed, I knew that all  
along' voice.  
Donna rolled her eyes and him and turned back to her mixing bowl.

*************

-45 minutes later-  
Josh yawned widely as he buttered a cookie pan.  
"How's it coming over there?" Donna called.  She was scooping cookie dough  
onto a baking sheet.  
"Fine," Josh said.  "How're you doing?"  
"Okay- I'm going to take out the first batch of cookies from the oven in  
about two minutes."  
"Wait..." Josh looked up, confused.  Panic gradually spread over his face.  
"Donna?" he asked nervously, hurrying over to the oven.  He did his best to  
peer through the small window in the door.  
"What?" she asked, a worried expression crossing her face.  
"Um, you didn't, ah, happen to put those cookies on the pans from the  
counter next to the sink, did you?"  
"Yeah.  Why?"  
"Because those weren't buttered."  
"What?!"  
"All the ones I buttered are here, by me, on *this* counter," he indicated  
his working space.  
Donna moaned.  "Josh!!!"  
"Well, maybe they'll be alright," he said, trying to be reassuring.  
"Josh!!!"  
"I already know my name, thank you.  You don't have to keep saying it."  
"I believe you're going to be the one scraping the cookies off that baking  
sheet," Donna said dryly.  "Because I'm certainly not going to do it."  
"Fine, no problem," Josh answered, attempting to sound confident.  
Donna's evil grin did not reassure him.  "I believe they're ready, Josh.  
Take them out of the oven."  She smirked at him and went back to scooping  
out cookie dough.  
Searching around, Josh found a pair of large red oven mittens.  As if  
preparing for war, he slid them onto his hands and grimly approached the  
oven.  He grabbed the baking sheet and pulled the cookies out of the oven.  
"Mmm, smells... interesting.  Kinda weird."  His nose wrinkled as he  
walked over to the side tray.  Donna watched him with a wide smirk.  "Stop  
looking at me like that.  I'm telling you they're going to come off the pan  
fine."  He grabbed a spatula with his left hand and continued to hold the  
edge of the pan with his right.  He began to feel the heat through his  
mitten.  "Ow...ow... Donna, why do you use these gloves if they don't even  
help?"  He hissed as his hand first turned warm, then scalding.  He yelped  
and almost dropped the pan.  
"Perhaps if I got a raise..." she hinted.  
"Not a chance."  Josh attempted to scrape a cookie off the pan.  It stuck  
to it as if it had been super-glued there.  He tried again, this time  
harder.  Nothing happened.  
"Problem, Josh?" Donna asked sweetly.  
"No."  He continued to hack at the cookie.  
"I didn't think so," she said with a self-satisfied grin on her face.  She  
resumed her cookie dough scooping.  
After seven minutes of scraping cookies from the pan, Josh sighed.  "Donna,  
this is taking longer than Congress."  
"You've learned your lesson, then?"  
"Yes, mother."  
"Good."  She stared at the result of his efforts.  The cookie crumbs lay in  
disheveled heaps on the cooling rack; Donna raised an eyebrow.  "You can  
throw those away."  
"After all my hard work?" Josh sputtered.  
"If you'd like I can put them in a bag for you and you can take them home,"  
she snickered at him.  
"I think I'll pass."  
"Suit yourself."  
Josh turned and, with a regretful sigh, dumped the mangled cookies into the  
trash can.

************************

-30 minutes later-  
Josh lifted the cutting board from the table and took it over to the sink,  
intending to wash it.  As he passed by a baking sheet, his right hand  
brushed against it.  At its sudden, searing touch Josh screamed and dropped  
the cutting board.  It dropped on top of his foot with a dull thud, causing  
him to yell again.  
Donna whirled around, eyes wide and mouth open in shock.  Josh's sudden  
scream had come from nowhere.  "Josh?" she asked hurriedly, running to the  
Deputy Chief of Staff who was hopping on one foot while trying to suck on  
the side of his hand.  "What happened?"  
"I burnft mahan ani joppedabord ohnmafoot," he complained, trying to sound  
coherent despite his hand occupying part of his mouth.  
Donna breathed a sigh of relief.  She bustled Josh over to the sink,  
forcibly took his hand out of his mouth, and ran it under cold water.  
"Sometimes, Josh, I just don't know what to do with you," Donna said,  
smiling at him.  She was relieved he wasn't badly hurt.  When she'd heard  
him scream, a dozen horrible images had popped into her mind, most of them  
involving Josh tripping and sticking himself with the cutting knife.  "Be  
more careful around the baking pans, okay?  That one just came out of the  
oven and I put it on the side to cool off."  
"Sure thing."  Josh nodded and tried to look calm.  He was still standing  
on one foot.  
Donna grinned.  "What's wrong with your leg?"  
"I dropped the cutting board on my foot."  
Donna stifled a giggle.  "Okay, show me your foot."  
Josh pulled his sock off and wiggled his toes at her.  "It hurts."  
"Then stop wiggling your toes," Donna said.  "Here, I'll put some ice on  
your hand, and then you can lie on my couch and elevate your foot."  
"I can take pain," he announced, as if to prove his masculinity.  
"Yes, Josh."  
"I really can."  
"Yes, Josh," Donna repeated, getting ice out of the freezer.  "Sit on the  
stool and I'll wrap your hand."  
Josh smiled.  "Well then, only because you asked nicely."  He stretched  
nonchalantly and tried not to wince as she wrapped the ice with a hand towel  
around his hand.  Then, she stuck it in a ziplock bag and closed it as best  
she could.  "Uh..." Josh stammered, looking at his hand encased in the bag.  
"Donna, I feel like a penguin."  He tried waving his hand.  
"Hold still!" Donna commanded.  "I don't care what you look like.  I've  
burnt my hand before and this helps to cool it down."  
"The ice I understand," Josh said, "it's the ziplock bag I don't get."  
"It's to hold the ice and towel in place," Donna explained.  "Really, Josh,  
have you *never* baked and gotten burned before?"  
Josh waved a foot in the direction of the trash can.  "The cookie crumbs in  
there will attest to that."  
Donna sighed.  "Now, Josh, try to stay out of trouble while I finish up the  
last batch of cookies, okay?"  
"Yes, mother."  
"Stop calling me that."  
"Okay, Martha."  
Donna stuck her tongue out at Josh and went to pull the final tray out of  
the oven.  Josh limped over to stand behind her.  He stared at the cookies.  
"Can I have one?"  
Donna rolled her eyes.  "Why do I feel like Mrs. Landingham?"  
Josh stealthily swiped a cookie from the rack.  "Thanks."  
He bit into it, his eyes closed as if in anticipation of ecstasy.  
Then he gagged.  
Unable to help himself, Josh threw himself at the sink, spitting the  
half-chewed cookie out of his mouth.  He desperately tried to drink water  
from the faucet.  
Donna looked at him with a hurt expression on her face.  "Well, if you  
don't like them, why don't you just say so?"  
Josh gagged again and turned away from the water enough to say, "You try  
one then."  Then, he resumed his desperate gulping.  
Donna took a cookie from the tray and bit into it, ready to come up with a  
sarcastic remark that would make Josh feel guilty.  
Donna's mouth dropped open in revulsion and she ran full-tilt at the sink,  
shoving Josh to the side.  
"See?  I told you," Josh said, wiping his mouth as he watched Donna gulp  
water from the faucet.  
When she was finally able to speak, Donna turned off the faucet.  "I don't  
understand," she whispered.  "They're horrible!  What went wrong?"  
Josh stood beside her for a moment, silent in thought.  Then, he walked  
towards the ingredients they had used, pulling the bag, towels, and ice from  
his hand as he went.  He opened the cover on the tupperware with 'sugar'  
written on it.  He dipped his finger into it solemnly, the white crystals  
adhering to his skin.  He tasted it tentatively with his tongue.  Josh made  
a face.  "Donna, this isn't sugar, this is salt.  There's salt in the  
cookies."  
Donna's expression changed from bewildered to depressed.  "Oh, that's  
right!!!"  She covered her face with her hand and whimpered.  "I cleaned out  
the pantry the other week and I ran out of salt containers, so I put the  
salt into the sugar tupperware.  I guess I forgot."  Her eyes teared and her  
shoulders drooped in defeat.  What am I going to give my parents for  
Christmas?  It's three forty-five in the morning and their plane is landing  
at six thirty."  She wiped her eyes on her sleeves.  
Josh approached Donna and awkwardly wrapped her in a hug.  "It's okay,  
Donna.  I'm sure they'll understand."  
"No, they won't," she sobbed, bathing Josh's shirt in tears.  "They already  
think I'm incompetent and worthless- this will just serve as more evidence  
to my hopelessness."  
"You're not incompetent," Josh said sternly, forcing her to look him in the  
eyes.  "You're extremely capable.  Without you, I know for a fact that the  
Deputy Chief of Staff as well as his office would not be able to function."  
He put his hands on her shoulders.  "Don't ever say you're worthless,  
Donatella.  It couldn't be further from the truth."  
Tears continued to spill from her eyes.  She sniffled and tried to smile.  
"Thanks, Josh."  
He smiled at her.  "Now, go to sleep.  Don't worry- I'll clean up in here.  
I'm sure everything will look better by morning."  He patted her on the back  
and gave her a gentle push in the direction of the hallway.  
He heard her bedroom door shut, then turned towards the chaotic kitchen.  
He splashed water on his face to wake himself up.  
Josh glanced at his watch.  "You've got two hours, Lyman," he said  
resolutely, then turned to the kitchen with a determined look on his face.

********************

Josh drove down the deserted street looking left and right like a dog  
searching for game.  It had taken him a record seven minutes to tidy Donna's  
kitchen and he was feeling quite proud of himself.  
In the seat behind him were piled baking sheets, measuring cups, spatulas,  
the knife holder with cutting knives sticking out like artillery, trays, and  
bowls of all sizes.  All of which he had no idea how to use.  
Josh suddenly breaked, the car screeching to a halt.  Excitedly, he shoved  
open the car door and slammed it shut behind him.  He charged at the doors  
to the well-lit store before him as if they were the Pearly Gates.  
He pulled a list out of his pocket and began shouting orders at the  
disgruntled owner.  
"Move it!" he demanded with typical Lyman diplomacy, jumping up and down as  
if it would hurry the worker up.  
After staring at the odd customer in boxers, a college shirt, and socks  
that were rolled up to mid-calf, the man behind the counter began pulling  
the desired items off the shelves.  
"Here," Josh shouted, shoving a fifty at the man.  "Keep the change."  He  
grabbed the groceries off the counter and dashed back out the door, throwing  
everything through the car window and into the backseat.  He hopped into the  
front and pulled away, the tires squealing.

*********************

Josh stood at home in his small kitchen, surrounded by a pile of things he  
had no idea what to do with.  He consulted the instructions again.  
"Damn it!" he shouted for the fourth time in two minutes.  "How in hell am  
I supposed to do this?!"  
Then, inspiration struck.  
Grinning like a maniac, Josh lunged for the phone.  He pressed the buttons  
madly, then after a brief pause was rewarded with a dial tone.  He drummed  
his fingers on the countertop nervously, willing the long distance call to  
go through faster.  
Finally, a familiar voice answered the phone.  
"Mom?" Josh said.  "Hi, it's Josh."  He eyed the heap of cooking utensils  
and ingredients lying beside him.  "I need your help."

************************

The doorbell woke Donna at 7 am.  Wiping the sleep from her eyes, she  
shoved off the covers, donned her house slippers, and wandered down the hall  
to answer the doorbell.  "Coming," she shouted, wishing her parents weren't  
so impatient.  She peered at the bathroom mirror as she passed it, praying  
she looked somewhat presentable.  She shrugged at her tangled hair and red  
eyes.  Oh well, her parents would just have to deal with it.  
Donna saw a head of hair peeking over the couch as she neared the door.  
"Poor thing," she thought, recognizing Josh solely by his hair.  "He must've  
fallen asleep here after cleaning up the kitchen."  
The doorbell rang for the third annoying time.  
She hurriedly ran to answer it, not wanting her parents to wake up Josh.  
She yanked open the door.  "Hi, now be quiet," she grated at her parents.  
Her mother frowned at her and fluffed her short blond hair.  "That's no way  
to talk to me young lady," she sulked.  
Donna's father towered over her, a scowl plastered across his face as well.  
"Considering we haven't seen you for two years, I'd think you'd welcome us  
a little better than that."  
"I didn't want you to wake my friend up," she whispered pointedly.  
"Oh, so now we're an inconvenience!" her mother huffed loudly.  "Well, I  
don't care if we do wake her up.  If she's your friend, she probably  
deserves it."  
Donna bit her lip to keep it from quivering.  "My friend had a tough night  
last night and *he* deserves some respect."  
A yawn issued from the couch.  
"HE?" her mother practically shouted.  "What were you two doing last  
night?!"  
"Mother, this is my apartment and if I have a guy friend over, it's none of  
your business.  Lower your voice.  I don't want you to wake him up."  Donna  
had to hide a smile; it was the first time in her life that she'd ever  
talked back to her parents.  Usually, she just let them walk all over her.  
"I don't know what's gotten into you," her mother muttered, appalled.  
Donna's father glared at her.  "Well, are you going to ask us in or not?"  
For a moment, Donna actually humored herself by imagining what would happen  
if she said no.  "Would you please come in?" she finally said sweetly, the  
frown on her face belying her words.  
"Hi."  
Donna turned to see Josh standing by the couch looking dead tired.  He had  
on his politician's face, however; the face that was icily politely, and  
steely and confident.  She never adored him more than in that moment.  Donna  
knew his moods, and by the look on his face, he'd heard every word exchanged  
between her and her parents.  He practically radiated muted aggression  
bordering on hostility.  
"Joshua Lyman, White House Deputy Chief of Staff," he said crisply, nodding  
at them.  Despite the dark circles around his eyes and the fact that he was  
still wearing what he'd been wearing last night, he looked incredibly  
official.  
"I'm Carol," Donna's mother gushed, seemingly overwhelmed by the man  
standing before her.  Donna stared at her with disgust; she couldn't believe  
the way her mom drooled over men in power.  
"Frank," her father said, extending his hand.  
Josh merely nodded at them again as if to recognize their fleeting  
existence.  He stooped towards the couch, his hands hidden.  When he came  
back up to face Donna's parents, a beautifully wrapped basked was in his  
hands.  Inside, stacked neatly in ziplock bags, were cookies.  
Donna's mouth dropped open in shock.  
"Donna baked these for you yesterday," Josh said airily, handing the basket  
to the older woman.  "Of course, these were baked *after* the President's  
batch."  
Her mother's eyes were round with shock.  "The- the- you mean the- *the*  
President???!"  
"Of the United States???!" her father finished, his eyes just as huge.  
"Quite," Josh sniffed and looked unconcerned.  "She makes him a batch every  
weekend.  Not a week has passed during President Bartlet's term that he has  
not had your daughter's cookies to greet him Monday morning."  
"Oh my," Mrs. Moss panted, looking ready to faint.  "I think I need to sit  
down."  
"And I think I need to lie down," Mr. Moss puffed, his face red.  "I can't  
believe it...I mean, Donna- capable?"  Together, they wandered down the  
hall, jabbering.  They found Donna's bedroom, then went inside, slamming the  
door.  
Donna turned to Josh with tears in her eyes.  He smiled at her and  
shrugged.  "What can I say?  They were rendered inactive by my charm."  
"Oh Joshua, you are the sweetest man alive!" she said, rushing to hug him.  
Josh hugged her back, laughing, then started to squirm.  "Okay, Donna.  
That's enough.  I need air here."  He coughed nervously.  
Donna smiled up at him.  "How did you do it, Josh?  I mean, I know you  
don't bake."  
"Let's just say I had some help," he smiled secretively.  
Donna stared at him shrewdly.  "Your mom?" she asked, finally, a grin  
breaking onto her face.  
"Yeah, she offered me advice on the telephone every step of the way.  Of  
course, I did the baking myself.  And I have to say, I did an excellent  
job."  He grinned.  
"Where'd you get all the ingredients from?  I know I didn't have any left,  
and I'm not willing to believe you actually had all that stuff lying around  
at your house."  
"Well..."  
"C'mon, Joshua, spill!"  
"Actually, I just drove around until I found a 24-hour store."  Josh  
shrugged again.  "No big deal."  
"And the beautiful wrapping?"  
Josh smiled uncomfortably.  "Let's just say I'm gonna owe CJ a big favor  
for waking her up at six fifteen on a Saturday morning."  
Donna was quiet for a moment as she merely stared at Josh.  
"Thanks," she said finally, very softly.  
"You're welcome," Josh answered just as quietly.  Then he smiled.  
"Well, you'd better get back to sleep," Donna said, shaking herself.  "You  
look like you got punched in both eyes."  She touched his face hesitantly,  
her touch becoming more of a caress.  Then, she seemed to catch herself and  
she jerked her hand away.  "You can take my bed- I'll kick my parents out of  
the bedroom for you."  
"Nah, that's okay.  I gotta be getting home anyway."  Josh grimaced when he  
thought of the condition his kitchen was in when he'd left his apartment at  
six, driving at seventy miles per hour.  
"Hold on," Donna said, disappearing down the hallway.  She reappeared with  
a blanket.  "Here, it's freezing.  I don't want you getting sick."  She  
draped the blanket over his shoulders.  
Josh opened the door.  "See ya Monday, Donnatella."  
Donna seemed to hesitate for a second, then leaned forward to kiss him  
quickly on the cheek.  "Thank you, Joshua.  This meant a lot to me."  
Josh's face was suspiciously beginning to turn red.  His cheek still  
tingled from where she'd kissed him.  He nodded, looked about to say  
something, then changed his mind.  With a hasty wave, he disappeared down  
the hall.  
"Be careful!" Donna called after him.  "Don't fall asleep at the wheel!"  
His only response was a cocky laugh that echoed down the hall.

************************  
~Epilogue ~

There was an ongoing mystery that occurred in the White House for one year  
during the Bartlet Presidency.  
No one knew why the phenomenon occurred, and no one knew exactly how.  
They only knew that every morning for a year, when Deputy Chief of Staff  
Joshua Lyman got to his office, a cup of steaming coffee would be waiting  
for him on his desk.  
When asked about it, Mr. Lyman merely shrugged and smiled.  
To this day, the phenomenon of the mysterious coffee cup remains one of the  
most perplexing mysteries ever to occur within the walls of the most famous  
building in American history.  
That, and the sudden, unscheduled two-day vacation by Press Secretary CJ  
Cregg and a 'companion'- reported to have been of the male gender, with long  
hair- to a small ski resort.  Along with the coffee cup, the identity of  
CJ's companion remains one of the best kept secrets in the White House's  
illustrious career.  


END

  

  


End file.
